


Morality is Useless

by pounsygirl



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Dark!Lestrade, Gen, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-15 17:20:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pounsygirl/pseuds/pounsygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detective Inspector Lestrade is secretly a serial killer, he receives outside help, and Sherlock is too stupid to notice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morality is Useless

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic I started months ago and have since abandoned. This fic is barely edited, completely unbeta'd and not brit picked. I had planned on having Moriarty as being a fake, created by Lestrade to conceal his identity( and therefore Richard Brook would be a real person). In this timeline of events, Sherlock does actually jump to his death at the end of The Reichenbach Fall. 
> 
> I am looking for constructive criticism for this fic. I am looking for an outside second opinion. Please message me on tumblr my url is mmmmmolly, thank you.

 

As of late the dear inspector was growing more and more foolish. His usual habits were nothing impressive, but this latest act was irresponsible and uninspired at best. His lack of good judgement had involved Sherlock Holmes, the consulting detective for Scotland Yard. Perhaps the inspector had impossibly low self-esteem. Only this would explain why he spoke with the same consulting detective a mere half hour after orchestrating the crime that sought to kill Sherlock Holmes. Lestrade spoke with no malice towards his intended victim, if anything he seemed at ease, a fact that didn’t shock his benefactor in the least. Sherlock Holmes may self diagnose as a sociopath but it truly took a psychopath to have such wanton feelings towards murder, as well as an insatiable bloodlust, and yet he lives unaffected by the lives lost at his hand.

The benefactor knew the depths of the inspector’s harsh nature. He saw it when Lestrade had killed Soo Lin Yao. He had watched from the cameras as the inspector had maintained what little control he had left, and shot her. The benefactor had reacted quickly, spinning together a tale tight enough to fool Sherlock Holmes. Lestrade had been messy, this was the second time he had gotten close to Sherlock Holmes. Holmes was not as clever as widely believed. He was bright and had solved many interesting cases for Scotland Yard. His expertises were needed on occasion. However, was it not the benefactor that derailed him yet again from seeing the truth? Was it not Lestrade, a man hidden in plain sight that escaped Holmes’s seemingly superhuman deductive abilities? Perhaps Sherlock Holmes was distracted by his new toy, his live in public assistant, plainly named John Watson. Both the benefactor and the dear inspector knew it would not last. Like all great things, time and boredom would lead Sherlock away from his beloved Doctor.

Lestrade had planned the next set of crimes elegantly, and had involved Sherlock for every minute of it.  He very much liked the little game of theirs. The Inspector knew how close the detective was getting, it was right below the surface and he took Lestrade for a fool. He boasted for his doctor, attempting to appear clever. It was pathetic.

Lestrade knew how lonely Sherlock Holmes had been, how he needed John to remember his humanity. His humanity would not save him. Lestrade knew how this would play out. He was planning on it in fact. What good would humanity do when a person was faced with the end of a gun? Where would humanity be the day a person is faced with a blade, carving into their ribs, puncturing a lung? A serial killer felt no humanity or innate goodness as they got off on the sight of their victim’s life leaving their eyes. Lestrade had long watched how little humanity cared for the victims.

 _If you can’t beat them, join them_ he thought somewhat dramatically.

The benefactor had gotten involved in the next set of crimes, though Lestrade never knew to what extent the benefactor was involved. He had long suspected someone was helping him along, even he knew Soo Lin Yao was too close.  Though this mysterious benefactor was more than happy to remain unknown, a fact Lestrade was happy with as well. He loathed when people felt as though he should owe them a favour in return.

The good inspector found his next victim purely by chance, his usual planning had gone out of the door the moment he had seen her at the shops. She was getting flustered with her groceries and trying to unlock her car door, Lestrade watched her mildly fascinated. His heart was racing at the idea of seeing her grovel, snivel, and beg for her life. She would beg and plead to be saved. Oh. Had she ever. She had grabbed at his coat tails, her face red and blotchy from tears and the force of her sobs. He quirked his mouth and buckled her seatbelt, she hiccupped once before he started to speak to her. He gave her clear instructions and outlined his threats in a calm, steady voice. “Now most people would use a gun. Think the symbolism of it gives it fear. Symbolizes the imminent death a person is faced with.” He paused and let the meaning of his words settle. “ However, can you tell me why I would deny myself the joy of a speedy kill? Would I not want to savour the moment?” He smiled pleasantly and took out his mobile.  “ This is a basement I have converted. Sherlock Holmes will believe I have snipers and a bomb set up for you. This is a lie. I will take you to this basement, and I will have you each way until you wish I had been merciful and employed snipers. And then I will pour the life out of you.” The woman wailed at this statement. “ Shut up for a moment because this next part is important.” She covered her face with her hands and barely collected herself to listen to the inspector. “ And when I done with you, I will find your children. So help me they will suffer for what Sherlock Holmes will fail to do. When he has failed you, you will remember that name. You will curse that name with your dying breath.”

The next moments were Lestrade’s least favourite, having the woman outfitted with her ear piece and making her understand the instructions again. People were very obtuse. Sherlock Holmes would decide how the rest of the game would play out.

The benefactor kept close tabs on Lestrade. He calculated every possible outcome, and he planned ahead. A long time ago, when Lestrade had committed one of his first known kills, he was there. He had watched with rapt fascination as the former sergeant, had taken out a victim’s eyeballs. The benefactor understood the detective’s fascination with eyes. How pupils dilated with fear, and his eyes with arousal. The adrenaline that pumped through his victims, in abject terror, this adrenaline mirrored Lestrade’s adrenaline rush, the high he got from seeing the last flicker of life leaving the eyes. Perhaps the Benefactor had also come to have a fascination with eyes. Though if this had always been the case or if it had been born from his interest in the detective inspector he did not know.

It was widely believed that the great consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes was famously bored. The child knew nothing of the word and its meaning. The clever game Lestrade loved to play with Sherlock Holmes and his dedicated assistant, this game was nothing compared to the one the Benefactor played with Lestrade.

In the final act of this great game, he involved himself. The game was falling apart. The desire and the need for the Inspector’s bloodlust outweighed his logical mind. It was clouding his judgement. And so he had found a nice IT technician, who needed money just badly enough, who owed enough favours to certain people. All it took were some dubious arrangements and the assurance to Lestrade. Which had not been an easy task however, the DI was desperate enough as well. He was over his depth with his attempt to outwit Sherlock Holmes. This should have been easy considering the consulting detective’s ability to overlook anything of importance. In his youth, Sherlock Holmes had been brilliant, the benefactor had seen it himself with his own eyes. He was quick and adept at reading the signs and extrapolating based on the evidence. Those who followed his cases called them deductions though this was inaccurate. Perhaps even more alarming was the rate to which he had gained a following, which was in all possibility linked to one mister John Watson and his sorry state of a blog.

The events following the Great Game, as it was named on the aforementioned blog, were deliberate ploys to distract Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Both had taken on a surprising number of cases outside of their usual work with Scotland Yard. A trivial case such as comprising photographs had taken up the better part of a one year span. As well, Sherlock Holmes had somehow decided that the case of a supposed murderous hound was worth what he considered his precious time.

Lestrade had been particularly inactive during this time. He busied himself with his day job and often inserted himself within the consulting detective’s life. However, this period of inactivity was alarming, since the benefactor had come to know of Lestrade, he had only been silent for a period of no longer than 5 months. As it stood, he was now without any kills for over 9 months. The benefactor considered perhaps Lestrade had achieved a way to hide his intentions however, as they had become somewhat silent partners since the events of the Great Game, there was no need for the detective to conceal himself any longer. 


End file.
